


Adagio

by propsandmayhems



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: F/M, I honestly have no clue where Im going with this, Welcome to my own personal hell, i seriously have no clue what im about to do, its about to be a wild ride ladies, the timeline is FUCKED just basically doing what I want !
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-07-10 11:38:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15948575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/propsandmayhems/pseuds/propsandmayhems
Summary: In slow tempoDisclaimer: I do not own the characters or the story of Endeavour, those rights go to the writers and studios that produce the show... please don't come for me itv





	1. Prologue - Endeavour

Endeavour Morse is a simple man - or at least he believes himself to be so. Sure, he may be finicky. He may like Baroque rather than Classical after coming home from work, favor a certain type of cotton in his shirts because he prefers the way it feels on his skin and would refuse to read a book if he didn't care for the font used. However, he didn't think this made him a complicated man, just selective in parts of his life.

He often times lost himself in his work. Much like how he did with jigsaw puzzles as a child and laborious translations in his college years,  he would easily lose track of time paging through files and filling out paperwork, until he would look up and notice his desk lamp was the only one left on in the space of the Cowley CID office and he the only other person in the station besides the few on-duty PC’s. After leaving the station, regardless of how late he’d stayed, he would then have to decide whether or not to head onto a pub or straight home. He liked to let himself believe that if he went home, he wouldn't find himself waking up with another bottle beside his bed and a throbbing headache to boot, but he knew with himself, one thing always led to another.  

Endeavour was used to waking up to a lonely bed, to the sound of his alarm clock and to knocking over an empty bottle that was drunkenly placed by the nightstand, wearing his same socks and undershirt from the previous day. He blamed many things on his job; the drinking stemming from dealing with the emotional toll of seeing how cruel people can truly be to one another, the empty bed due to him never having enough time to even go out to replace the eggs and orange juice in his fridge let alone find a girl to romance.

Picking up and dropping off Thursday at home quickly became one of his favourite parts of his job. From driving the Jag and discussing a case with his DI to seeing Miss Thursday’s smiling face when she answered the door for him each morning or swept through the foyer on her way upstairs in the evening, it became a time when Endeavour felt the most content with his life. He quickly became smitten with the dark haired girl with bright, intelligent eyes and quick, witty sense of humour that eased him and fired up his nerves all at once. He always became tongue-tied and looked a fool when around her, however, Endeavour couldn’t - and wouldn’t - express his interests in Joan as she was the daughter of the mentor that had been better than good to him and pursuing his daughter would be no way to thank Thursday for the long leash he’d so graciously given to Morse on more than one case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhh you made it through my 4 paragraphs of shitty grammar to the end notes! Thank you for sticking around this long and kudos and comment if you enjoyed or just want to yell about how Russell Lewis is murdering us or how gorgeous Shaun is, I'm down for all of that


	2. One - Joan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan's perspective of the events that take place between Morse and Joan during S1 E2 Fugue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this taking forever! Last semester totally drained all my creativity for anything other than statistics. This semester I'm down to only 15 cred. so I have a lot more time to enjoy things, such as Endeavour :) This is short and pretty choppy but I am trying to get back into writing, it's been awhile. Regardless, I hope you enjoy.

Joan loved opening the door each morning for her father’s assistants. It was always a guessing game how long each would last before her dad found a fault with the newest in a line of dozens of previous bagmen.

She distinctly remembers the first day she opened up the front door to the face of Endeavour Morse - the way the air smelt of the rain that was coming in that evening, the look of surprise that crossed his face when it was her that opened the door instead of her father and how he was buttoned up so tight and was a complete disaster all at the same time. Her heart ached for the man who was fidgeting on her doorstep, still flustered that it wasn’t his DCI that had answered the door. She commanded him inside, momentarily regretting it after Sam jumped right into teasing him. Her mother came into the room with her typical assertive air, correcting him when he called Joan by ‘Miss Thursday.’ Usually she didn’t enjoy being called by her surname as it made her feel old, but the way it came out of his mouth - drawing out the ‘u’ and lowering his tone for the ‘day’ - made her nearly blush. She was so caught up in taking in all she could of him that she completely lost track of time, but thankfully, her father came into the room reminding her to go catch her bus. 

After all that, she was surprised to see him again so soon, and was especially surprised to see him sprawled out on the sitting room sofa when she opened the door in search of a sweater. Joan let her eyes drift over his lanky frame, thinking he could do with a good feeding and then immediately scoffed at herself for beginning to sound like her Mum. Upon further inspection of him where his suit jacket fell away, she noticed the speckles of blood blossoming on the lower left hand side of his white button up. She felt the urge to hunt down whoever had done this to him, as she always had whenever her father came home bruised or bloodied. He would always lay a kind hand on her arm, look her in the eye and tell her that it was just another part of the job, and that he would be okay. However, looking at this skinny boy-of-a-man, she couldn’t tell herself he would be okay. She began to reach out and move toward him before thinking better of it - he probably had a girlfriend of wife at home who would bandage him up and would be expecting him soon. With that, Joan turned from the room, sweater forgotten.

Later on, only after he eating the food her mother insisted on and drank at least two cups of tea, he took the station issue jag back and left for his own, wherever that may be. She finally worked out a proper way of asking her father if the young DC was single, so it wouldn't seem as if she was interested. Sitting down next to him while he was watching the evening telly, she turned, “why did he stay for dinner, doesn't he have anyone at home that would be expecting him?” Her father gave her a sidelong glance as he removed the pipe from his mouth, and she hoped she was either sly enough that he wouldn’t see her infatuation or he would be kind enough not to call her out and give her the ‘No Dating Coppers’ speech again. It seemed to be one of the two as he gave his answer, “No, as far as I know he is alone.” The pipe went back into his mouth while Joan’s brain whirred with the name ‘Morse.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the end of this I think I may have more notes than I do story, but just a few more things -  
> 1\. I am not British so sometimes spellings/slang may be off  
> 2\. I honestly forgot the plotline that I had to go with the original title, so I changed it!!  
> 3\. If anyone is interested in beta-ing this, I would love that so much!!! Shoot me a message on my tumblr (same url)  
> I think thats it. Thank you for reading!


End file.
